


Cabin Fever

by Renne



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Cliche, First Time, M/M, Romance, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-15
Updated: 2011-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-14 18:48:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/152330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renne/pseuds/Renne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a cabin. There is snow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cabin Fever

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 2004.

The cottage was far up the side of the mountain, and only accessible by the narrow, winding roads Orlando detested. Particularly when he was driving the swish little sports car his vanity had urged him to buy. It had seemed like a good idea at the time to buy that little smear of sexy red gloss wrapped around a gutsy engine – even if, Orlando had to admit to himself, he would have bought it regardless of what the engine was like because, hell, it was so shiny!

He cursed once more and slowed down as his car slipped on black ice and threatened to plough into yet another tree. At barely a snail’s crawl he was still surprised when his turnoff loomed ahead, and pulled off onto the new road with something akin to relief – which quickly turned to shades of horror when he realised that the narrow, winding road he was now on was in worse condition than the one he had just left.

Orlando indulged in some more creative cursing, this time directed at his former castmate who had decided to retreat into the wilderness in the depths of winter. Admittedly, he did it so as not to have to be around people, particularly at Christmas time when his daughters were with their respective mothers, so it wasn’t like he did it out of pique. Orli knew Sean was welcome to spend time with his kids over the time between Christmas and New Year, but preferred to get away from civilisation once he’d spent his Christmas time with his daughters. Too much to remind him of what he didn’t have, Orlando supposed.

It was because of this that Orli decided he’d just have to go and visit Sean. No ulterior motives other than to spend some time at Christmas with a mate.

Honest.

**

The cottage was set at the end of a rather long driveway, which Orlando had negotiated with gritted teeth and a wildly beating heart as he feared at any moment he would tear the guts out of his pretty low-slung car on the gravel. He pulled up next to a beat-up truck in the small open area at the front of the cottage even as the first flakes of snow began to fall.

It wasn’t like he’d timed his arrival to coincide with the snow starting to fall.

Honest.

**

Orli shrugged into his jacket, pulled on his beanie and scarf for the short dash between his car and the cottage verandah. It was toasty warm in the car, but he didn’t fancy the cold that was on the other side of the glass. And he didn’t know how long he would have to wait between getting out of the vehicle and getting inside the cottage. The fact the truck was there _should_ mean Sean was home, but he didn’t know if Sean would be asleep or – or in the _shower_ or something, all naked and wet and... well, unable to come to the door, of course.

Pulling the keys from the ignition and slipping them in his pocket he picked up the grocery bags off the passenger seat and virtually exploded from the car like he was running a foot race, shutting the door behind him and scampering through the slushy mud until he clomped up onto the wooden verandah, feeling rather impressed with himself.

He pulled the keys from his pocket and turned, pointing them at his car and cockily pressing the button to lock the doors. Nothing happened. He pressed the button a couple more times.

Still nothing.

‘Fuck me dead,’ he said, sitting the bags down by his feet. He tried pressing the button with his other hand, just in case. Nope, nada. Damn stupid car! He picked his way back to where it sat, still quietly tinking as it cooled down in the cold air, looking all red and shiny and smugly obstinate. The closer he got to the car, the more times he tried to lock it with the button, and it wasn’t until he was standing right by it, with one hand on the doorhandle that it finally locked. He called it all sorts of nasty things and kicked the wheel.

Chill wind tickled his cheeks, so he hurried back to the shelter of the verandah just as the front door opened.

**

Sean was sprawled out on the couch with his feet propped up in front of the crackling fire when he heard what sounded like an engine. Purring and quiet, but an engine all the same. This was peculiar, because his cottage was far from the road and he definitely _wasn’t_ expecting any visitors.

He sighed and wondered who it was there to bug him, twisting around into a sitting position before pushing himself to his feet. ‘Damn creaky old bones,’ he grumbled, doing up the fly of his jeans which he had loosened purely for comfort.

He padded on bare feet towards the front door, peeking for a moment out the sidelight glass window. He clapped a hand over his mouth and snorted with laughter when he looked through and saw what looked like a rugged up Orlando doing a rather poncy looking sprint/dash between his car – some sleek, wildly inappropriate vehicle for the terrain and the weather – and the verandah.

Orli – for it was indeed him – turned triumphantly and, Sean supposed, pointed the key at the car to lock it. He laughed again, louder behind his muffled hand when he heard Orlando swear and advance through the falling flakes of snow towards his car.

When he saw Orli hurrying back towards the verandah he flicked open the catch on the door and opened it. The younger man barrelled through the open door, stumbling over the slightly raised threshold of the doorway and pitched straight into Sean’s arms.

‘Jesus, Orli, you trying to kill yourself?’ Sean laughed as he steadied the other man. Orli’s eyes were bright and sparkling and his nose was reddened from the cold. Sean wasn’t sure if the healthy flush of red across Orli’s cheeks was from the cold or from embarrassment at his near spill.

‘And hullo to you too, Sean!’ Orli grinned, lightly punching Sean on the arm. ‘Wait,’ he said as Sean went to close the door, ‘I forgot my bags!’

Bags? Sean thought blankly as Orlando ducked back outside. ‘Hurry up, you’re letting all the hot air out!’

**

Orland trailed through the cottage after Sean. Somehow between picking up the bags, daydreaming about being in Sean’s arms again – now where did that thought come from? – and trailing along after the older man, his gaze had become fixed on the rip in Sean’s jeans just below the left side back pocket. He fancied he could slip his fingers into that rip, feel the softness of frayed denim. It looked like it was just wide enough to fit his hand in without tearing the denim further. He could just slip his hand in there and stroke the back of Sean’s thigh...

Not that he was going to. Pure conjecture, of course. What with it being a hand-sized rip and all...

The cottage was much larger than something called a cottage had right to be, and it was warmed by the huge fireplace in the living room which was burning away merrily.

Dragging his gaze away from that inviting tear in Sean’s jeans, he glanced around the living area. It was open plan, adjoining on to a lush kitchen of dark scarred, well-loved timber and a dining table to match. It was a big sturdy table. Very sturdy.

He pulled off his beanie and scarf and jacket.

‘I brought beer!’ Orlando blurted, holding up the bags. Beer, the cure to all ills. And pretzels. Because beer and pretzels went together apparently.

‘Beer!’ Sean almost lunged forward and snatched the bag from Orlando’s hand. He set it down and began to rifle through the contents.

**

‘Only a six-pack?’ Sean said mournfully, once Orli had reappropriated the bags from Sean and taken the contents out. It wasn’t like the six pack of beer was the only alcohol in the cottage, but Sean didn’t feel like getting totally slaughtered on hard liquor.

‘Sorry,’ Orli pouted, toying with the edge of a packet of instant noodles, which were the extent of his cooking abilities.

‘Oh, no... no it’s okay, mate-‘ Sean slapped Orlando so heartily on the shoulder he felt like he was going to faceplant on the bench top. A six-pack would be fine. If he could convince Orli not to drink. ‘Besides... you probably shouldn’t have any – what with driving that pretty little car of yours back to town in weather like this.’ He cut a glance out the window. Snow was quite happily tumbling from the sky to dust across everything it landed on, or suicide against the glass.

Orlando’s eyes narrowed. Sean beamed at him winsomely. He’d get his way. He always did.

Orli slid the six-pack towards him. There, see? Easy as that.

‘Cook you something?’ Orli suggested.

Sean eyed off the packets of instant noodles. ‘Maybe I should cook,’ he suggested.

**

Orli shovelled the veggie stew into his mouth, using his fingers to mop up the juices that spilt from the sides of his mouth. Not very suave, but the stew was delicious and he was ravenous. Sean looked particularly tasty, too.

Or rather, Orlando corrected himself sternly, Sean looked like he was enjoying the taste too. Yes, that was what he meant.

Outside, the snow fell harder.

**

The day, Sean decided, had been remarkably pleasant. As much as he had come all the way out to the cottage to get away from humanity in general, Orlando had been lovely company – what when he wasn’t looking at Sean oddly and blurting out peculiar things like ‘You smell nice’ and ‘Your jeans are ripped’ – as if Sean hadn’t already noticed. That his jeans were ripped, that is. He just figured that the boy was a bit stir-crazy himself.

They spent the afternoon talking football, careers and life, and about their friends and what they were up to for Christmas, playing poker at the huge dining table, with Sean sinking the beer Orlando had been so thoughtful to give him and Orli chugging back on half-flat soft-drink. Sean was buzzing nicely.

It was edging on towards evening. ‘You probably should head back to town soon.’ Sean realised it sounded like he was kicking Orli out. ‘Just saying, ‘cause it’s starting to get dark.’

Orlando hesitated briefly before answering. ‘Yeah. Before it gets too dark.’ He looked at Sean oddly. Again.

‘Have I got something on me face?’ Sean asked, squinting at Orli.

‘Er. Stubble? Not that I’m saying you need to shave or anything. Er... Why?’

‘You keep looking at me odd.’

‘Oh. Um.’ Orli picked up his keys. ‘Hey! Look, keys! Time to go!’

With the dangle of shiny keys Sean conveniently forgot to pursue the topic of Orlando looking at him strangely.

**

Sean hugged Orli goodbye. Orli thought it was a nice touch. He also thought it was nice to touch Sean. Slide his hands up under the black woollen jumper clinging to his broad chest, just like he did in his mind. Just like he could have slid his hands into that tear in Sean’s jeans. But he didn’t.

‘You do smell nice.’

When was he going to stop saying that?

‘Yeah... uh, thanks.’ It was Sean’s turn to look at Orlando strangely. And it was Orlando’s turn to give Sean a winsome smile. ‘Well... I’ll see ya ‘round, then. Thanks for coming to visit.’

‘No problem! It was my pleasure.’ See? No ulterior motives other than to spend some time with a friend at Christmas. ‘Oh yeah... Happy Christmas,’ Orli grinned, before casting his gaze around desperately for mistletoe. None in sight. Damn. Not like he was looking to _kiss_ Sean or anything.

Honest.

Just a Christmas tradition, that’s all. And we all know it’s wise to obey traditions like that one.

‘Merry Christmas to you too, Orli.’

**

Sean waved, before stepping back inside the cottage, closing the door behind him. Orlando thought he would never go back inside. He sat in the cold car, once again rugged up in his scarf, jacket and beanie. He shivered.

Eventually he stuck the keys in the ignition.

**

Sean had just settled back down on the couch, his hand once more going to the fly of his jeans and flipping the button undone – always one for comfort – when he heard a knock at the door.

He cocked his head. Did he hear Orlando’s car? He wasn’t sure. Once more padding to the door, he opened it to have Orlando pounce in and fling his arms around him as soon as the door was opened wide enough.

‘Car won’t start!’ he said breathlessly, looking up at Sean.

‘Oh-kay...’ Sean carefully peeled Orli off him. ‘We’ll go see what’s wrong then?’

When he moved to pull on his boots where they sat by the door, Orlando stopped him. ‘Already tried to sort it out,’ he said innocently. ‘I think it must be the cold.’ He had his hands laced together behind his back and was rocking back and forth on his feet, from ball to heel.

Sean looked at Orli with a raised eyebrow, before glancing out into the yard. ‘Probably too much snow for a kid like you to drive in,’ he said.

Orlando’s shapely eyebrows dropped down into a frown. He huffed and pushed past Sean into the cottage.

**

It hadn’t escaped Orli’s notice that the top button of Sean’s jeans was open. Not, of course, that he was looking at Sean’s groin or anything. Maybe he’d felt the button press into him when he hugged Sean. Or maybe not. Maybe he was just observant.

Kicking off his boots he settled down in the centre of the couch, putting his feet on the coffee table and basking in the warmth coming off the fire.

Sean padded in behind Orlando, still barefoot. He went to the fire, bending over to place more wood on it. Orli admired the way the denim, rips and all, pulled taut over the curve of Sean’s buttocks and down his thighs. Purely aesthetic admiration. Who was he to argue? Sean was a fine looking specimen of male attractiveness.

And he smelt good. And who was Orlando to argue with his brain about admiring someone who looked pretty and smelt good? Focusing a bit too much on the whole ‘smelling nice thing’? Maybe, but then again Orli wasn’t entirely sure how to interpret everything else his brain was trying to tell him, so he stuck with it.

‘The weather’s getting really nasty,’ Sean said, turning. ‘Looks like you’ll have to stay the night.’ Orli imagined snuggling up to someone who smelt pretty in a big warm bed and made a happy purring kitty noise of agreement. ‘The couch is big enough for you to sleep on.’

 _What?_ Orli pouted discreetly. After all, it wasn’t that big a deal.

Really.

**

‘The fire should keep you warm through the night,’ Sean said, ‘as long as you don’t get up and fiddle with it.’ He dropped some blankets down on the couch, before plumping some cushions down one end for Orlando to use as pillows.

‘Tuck me in?’ he heard Orli ask hopefully.

Sean looked at him sharply, before his lips twitched with amusement. ‘Eh – sure...’ Who was he to turn down those big brown eyes? Besides, it wasn’t like he didn’t have experience tucking kids in.

Orli beamed at him, almost skipping over to the couch.

He slid down on the leather, the t-shirt Sean had leant him riding up to bear an expanse of still-tanned skin from the low-slung waist of the sweatpants he wore – also on loan – to the rise of his ribcage. Sean tsked and tugged the shirt back down, before dragging the blankets up over Orli and tucking them in around his shoulders.

The younger man then made a deceptively sleepy, pleased noise before mumbling, ‘Kiss me goodnight?’

‘ _Excuse_ me?’ Sean’s jaw dropped.

Orli pulled his arms free from the blankets and held them out to Sean. ‘Kiss me goodnight?’ he repeated expectantly.

Sean scratched his head. ‘Uh...’ Okay, so he wasn’t gonna kiss Orlando. He wasn’t Viggo or Dom or Elijah or anyone. He didn’t do that sort of thing. But the boy was looking at him so cutely in the semi-darkness he couldn’t just leave him like that. ‘Lemme tuck you back in.’

Orli obediently folded his arms beneath the blankets as Sean once again tucked the blankets back in around him. He raised his face, and Sean pressed his fingers against his own lips and then Orli’s. ‘G’night, Orli,’ Sean said. ‘Sleep well.’

**

Once Sean had left to go to the warmth of his own bed, Orli sulked in the fire-lit darkness. Fingers against lips weren’t a kiss goodnight! Although he could taste Sean’s fingers on his lips so it wasn’t an entirely wasted effort.

Not, you know, that he was _really_ trying to get Sean to kiss him. It was just a joke. Wasn’t it? Oh, who was he kidding?

He imagined Sean kissing him.

Orli smiled happily. Real pretty.

Other parts of him thought so too.

**

‘Sean?’

The unsure voice woke him. Sean squinted at the dark shape by the bed in the low light from the small fireplace in his bedroom. Orlando. That’s right. Couldn’t get his car to start, staying the night. Of course.

Orli plucked aimlessly at the heavy, brocaded cover on Sean’s bed. He was bundled to his ears in his own blankets, but his teeth were chattering from the cold. As Sean’s eyes adjusted to the half-light he realised Orlando looked totally miserable.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, alarmed, half sitting up.

‘I’m so _cold_ ,’ Orli whimpered. He gave a most pathetic doe-eyed look.

‘Oh, come on then...’ Sean shifted, throwing back the blankets so Orli could clamber into the bed.

**

Orlando slid into the warm bed, burrowing his chill toes into the blankets. He wondered if he could sidle over and press against Sean’s heated, half-naked – don’t think he hadn’t noticed _that_ when Sean had lifted up the blankets to let him in – body , soak up his heat, his scent. Wrap around his body and soak _him_ up.

‘Better?’ the other man asked sleepily.

‘Mmm...’ Orlando purred in affirmative.

**

Sean woke sluggishly, cocooned in the warmth of rumpled covers and the slender body twined around his. He absently swept his hand across smooth skin before he remembered who shared his bed. ‘Erm. Orli?’

There was a sleepy grumble and the face pressed against the curve of his neck nuzzled against him.

He lightly shook the sleepy elf boy by the shoulder. ‘Orli!’

Orli raised his face, blinking muzzily. ‘Whaaaa...?’

‘You’re, like... wrapped around me,’ Sean stated the obvious.

‘’es?’

Sean shifted. ‘Well, can you let me up?’

‘Why?’

The older man rolled his eyes. ‘’Cause I need to piss.’ It was obviously a good enough reason for Orlando, who lazily pulled away. For a moment there Sean thought that Orlando’s hands may have lingered a moment longer than necessary, but he dismissed it as morning lethargy.

**

Sean was in the shower. Orlando wondered absently if there was any way he could “accidentally” walk in on him. Probably not, he decided regretfully, as Sean had actually announced that he was having a shower and Orli had been stupid enough to acknowledge.

He slid from the bed, yelping a little as his foot came in contact with the icy slate floor, missing the edge of the rug on the floor by millimetres. He draped a blanket off the bed around him and shuffled towards the window, this time being careful to stay on the rugs.

He peeked out the window. Snow covered everything in sight. Orlando wondered if he’d be able to drive through it today. Probably not, he thought, ‘cause the car is broken, remember?

Well, not really broken, but it was hard to drive a car when the keys weren’t in the ignition.

**

Sean stepped out of the shower, shaking the water out of his hair. He liked the cottage’s bathroom. It was big. There was a bath, the shower, a gas heater. It was the gas heater he liked the most at the moment.

It made being butt-naked in the bathroom the middle of winter quite pleasant. Almost as pleasant as being butt-naked in the living room in front of the wood fire was.

He dried himself, before pulling on the clothes he had worn yesterday. They were still clean, and besides, he’d given them the tried and true sniff-test to make sure. Ran a razor over his face, not that he really needed to out here in the middle of nowhere, but sometimes it became habit whenever there was a visitor.

He padded out of the bathroom – still barefoot – towelling his hair dry. Orli stood by the window looking like a giant caterpillar swathed as he was in a fluffy green blanket.

‘You wanna go have a shower?’ he asked.

Orli turned and beamed at him. ‘It snowed last night.’

Sean looked blank. He tried to fit the answer he was given to the question he asked and failed. ‘Yeah... yeah, Orli, it did. Happens in winter. Now d’you wanna go and have a shower?’

‘With you?’ Butter wouldn’t melt in that mouth.

Sean buried his face in his hand. He didn’t remember Orlando being this vague on set. Maybe the cold had slowed his brain down. Eventually he stomped over to the linen press, pulled out some clean towels and threw them on the bed. ‘They’re there if you want to shower,’ he said, shaking his head at Orli who was still looking at him angelically. ‘I’m gonna go get the fire in the living room going.’ He stomped off.

**

Orlando slid under the hot spray of the shower. The scent of Sean was all around him. Tangible, almost, in the steam. He felt dizzy, but it was a good kind of dizzy. The light-headed dizziness of a pleasurable swoon.

The bathroom was the epitome of Sean smelling pretty.

The thought then crossed his mind that he was in a room where Sean had been naked. Soaping himself. Possibly feeling himself up. Getting off. If Orlando had any sense of modesty or innocence, he would have blushed at that thought.

Instead he squirted some soap onto his hand and applied it to the place that now needed it the most. Wicked.

**

Sean was placing the last of the wood on the fire when Orlando came bolting into the living room. ‘Fuck me, its cold in this place!’ he squeaked, before plonking himself down right in front of the fire. Sean shook his head, before putting up the fire screen so Orli wouldn’t accidentally set himself on fire. The kid was acting like he’d never been anywhere in winter at altitude. Ridiculous really, because after all New Zealand had hardly presented them with the warmest weather in the world!

‘Coffee?’ he asked.

‘Please!’

**

Orli swung around so his back was to the fire, soaking up the heat it radiated with pleasure.

He avidly watched as Sean bustled around the kitchen, looking remarkably well suited for it and not at all like a barefoot and pregnant housewife. Well, barefoot, yes... but not pregnant, nor a housewife. He managed to romp around with his masculinity well and truly intact. Orlando decided that this was because the kitchen was a big manly-man kitchen, and since Sean was a big manly-man it all worked out nicely. It also helped that he wasn’t wearing a floral apron like he had been in Orli’s dream the previous night.

Orli watched admiringly is Sean picked his way easily around the furniture with two steaming mugs in his hands. He passed Orlando a mug before moving to settle into one of the cosy armchairs, stretching out his legs and crossing them at the ankles. ‘Don’t think you’ll be able to head home today,’ he said absently. ‘Probably not tomorrow either if the weather keeps on like this. You certainly know how to pick it, Orli.’

Yes, Orli thought happily. I do... he didn’t say anything, though. Just nodded.

‘You can help me bring in some wood for the fires,’ Sean suddenly smirked over the rim of his mug. It was a wicked looking smirk that did squishy things to Orlando’s innards.

Then he realised what Sean said. ‘You want me to do physical work?’ he yelped. ‘But I’m on holidays!’

‘No,’ Sean’s smirk grew wider, ‘that’s where you’re wrong. _I’m_ on holidays – you’re just a blow in who dropped by for a visit and got stranded.’ He laughed. ‘Don’t worry, you get to do all the easier stuff...’

Easier stuff? Oh, that filled Orli with confidence. No, really, it did.

Honest.

**

It seemed a bit ridiculous to be standing outside in the middle of an icy winter in a t-shirt, but that was what Sean was doing. And he couldn’t be totally sure but for a moment there he thought Orli could have been ogling him.

He discarded that idea a ludicrous and figured that maybe he had, y’know, got something in his eye.

Or something.

He swung the splitter, the thud and crack of parting wood sounding loud in the winter air.

**

To say Orlando was having fun perving on Sean would be an understatement.

Orli had to be honest with himself – he’d never before considered splitting wood to be a particularly perve-worthy exercise (not that he had had much experience in that situation since prior to this weekend the bulk of his perving have been on the females of the species who didn’t tend towards this sort of manual work), but Sean made it pretty damn special to watch. T-shirt over taut muscles, bare arms, those damned ripped jeans and looking just like a model out of one of those calendars – you know, the ones that have all the working men in them.

He even had an adorable smear of dirt on his face. Orli felt like licking him clean.

He bounced around Sean, picking up the split pieces of wood and turfing them into the barrow Sean had given him. He’d tried to split some of the wood himself but had given it away as an exercise in futility almost immediately.

Correction: Sean had taken the splitter off Orli and ordered him to keep out of the way before he accidentally removed one of his limbs.

Never mind, he could hardly complain with things as they were. He went back to ogling.

**

His sweat quickly chilled in the frozen air, and it was with great relief that Sean climbed back into his soft, warm woollen jumper to follow Orlando, who was wheeling the wheelbarrow none too steadily through the back door of the cottage. He felt somewhat bemused. Orli had spent the whole time poncing around him like some kind of butterfly whilst Sean was actually splitting the small logs into manageable pieces, and now he was trying to act like he knew what he was doing.

Never mind that it was painfully obvious that he didn’t. Not with the way the barrow wobbled about like it was on a spring instead of a wheel, and the muttered curses he could hear issuing in a steady stream from Orli’s mouth.

There was a strange exhilaration in not knowing whether someone was going to put a barrow-load of wood through your back door, Sean realised. Not to mention nerve-wracking and all that. He decided, after cringing as the barrow teetered close to upending into a wall-unit packed with keepsakes, that the exhilaration he had experienced was probably sufficient of that kind to get him through _the rest of his life_.

It was with relief that he unloaded the wood and stacked it by the fireplace. ‘Help you?’ Orli offered.

‘Sure,’ Sean grinned. He hoped he could coax his girls to the same kind of effervescent enthusiasm next time he brought them to stay at the cottage. It would certainly make doing the chores a whole lot more pleasant.

His musings were interrupted by Orli letting out a loud cat-like yowl of pain. ‘Goddamnfuckingarrgh-‘

He doubled over, clutching his hand. Sean looked at him with concern. ‘You okay?’ he asked, his hand resting lightly on Orli’s shoulder as he peered at him.

‘Ohmigod, I gotta splinter!’ Complete indignation at the insult of it. Sean couldn’t help but snicker.

**

Sean really did have a tender touch, Orlando decided. His hands weren’t soft – his skin was roughened by the work he’d done lately – but his fingers were light, careful. Gentle. Except when he was digging around in Orlando’s palm with his pocket knife, of course, but that goes without saying. Even then he did what he could to minimise the pain.

‘Come, I’ll wash it clean,’ Sean said, leading Orli to the kitchen sink, his fingers lightly circled in a bracelet around Orli’s thin wrist. Orlando was happy to follow him. He avoided making comparisons to love-sick puppies in his head.

The water was lukewarm and Sean used his fingertip to lightly massage some antiseptic hand wash over the site of the wound. Orli made an ‘ngh’ noise as the soap stung his flesh, which garnered him an amused look from Sean. Sean patted Orli’s hand dry with a towel.

‘Do you want anything to cover that?’ Sean teased. Orli looked down at the hole in his hand. It was small, and not bleeding, but he was tempted to say yes just so he could make Sean put it on him.

If it wasn’t for the way it had made Sean tend to him Orli would have been blushing crimson at the humiliation of getting a splinter like that – not to mention the way he reacted to it. Instead he was flushed at the touch of the other man’s hands, his own imagination running riot. Fingers smoothing across skin... The thought was tempting for him to say yes to. But he didn’t, instead ducking his head a little in embarrassment he was sure Sean didn’t know real the reason behind. ‘No, but thanks...’

‘No problem,’ Sean said, and patted Orli on the shoulder. ‘How about I finish stacking the wood, you go out and put the splitter back in the shed, eh?’

‘Okay!’ Orlando smiled brightly. The temptation was there to help with the wood and get more splinters, just so Sean could take them out for him, but Orli wasn’t _that_ much of a masochist.

**

Sean was sweeping up the slivers off wood and dust off the slate floor, wondering if he should have warned Orli about the pond. If he was just going to take the splitter to the shed then he would be fine, but he remembered his former co-stars predilection for exploring where he wasn’t meant. The pond would be frozen, but Sean knew it wouldn’t be solid enough to take the weight of a grown man. Even one as light-weight as Orlando.

He figured that he would go and tell Orli – just in case. Better to be safe than sorry.

It was just as he made this decision that he heard a girlish shriek and a splash from the snowy backyard. He swore and bolted for the back door.

The silly bugger _had_ fallen in the pond.

**

‘ _Argh_!’

Fucking _cold_ oh shit shit _shiiiit_!

Orli scrabbled at the side of the pond. The water was like ice spearing into his nerve endings. ‘Sean, help!’

**

Sean scampered towards the pond. Orlando was whimpering as he flailed weakly in the icy water, unable and unknowing of the easiest way of pulling himself out of this predicament.

Sean dropped to his knees by the pond, bracing himself on the slippery trunk of the dead tree by the waters edge, reaching out to snare Orlando by the sopping collar of his jumper. He heaved the boy out of the water, wincing at the cold. ‘C’mon Orli!’ he urged as he pulled the shivering Orlando to his feet.

He clung to Sean, shivering violently, barely able to walk. His knees buckled.

Eventually Sean had to swing Orli up into his arms, or else he was never going to get him inside.

**

He couldn’t stop shaking. Sean had put him down in front of the fireplace, bundling him in towels before he went to run a hot bath and ordering him to try and get out of his icy clothing, but Orli couldn’t move. He hadn’t even wanted to let Sean go, and only had once the other man had assured him he wouldn’t be long.

Stupid pond! Stupid ice not supporting his weight! Stupid Sean for not telling him not to go gallivanting around! His teeth chattered as he huddled closer to the warmth miserably. And stupid him for trying to skate on the ice!

He felt an incredibly warm hand against his cheek and looked up through stinging eyes to see Sean crouch by his side. It seemed completely illogical that at this stage, whilst so miserable and frozen to the core, Orlando would want to lean across and see if Sean’s lips were as warm as his hand was. Maybe press his frozen nose against Sean’s neck. Maybe inch icy fingers across his ribs under that cosy black turtleneck.

He let Sean coax him to his shaky feet, and guide him into the steamy bathroom.

**

It had taken a bit of doing to peel Orlando out of his clothes down to his briefs, what with the way he clung to Sean, but eventually he managed to get the young man down to bare skin. He could see Orli becoming more and more listless and eventually decided to kick off his boots, toe off his socks, slip out of his jumper and t-shirt and lift the boy into the bath himself. It was big enough for two.

He hefted Orli into his arms and stepped unsteadily into the bath – it wouldn’t be too hot for someone who was frozen, uncomfortable at first possibly, but not too hot once he got used to it. Sean sighed his own relief as the hot water curved around his thighs and buttocks, soaking easily through the damp denim of his jeans.

Orlando jerked his head up at the touch of the water, the grip of his arms around Sean’s neck tightening as he struggled to try and get out of the bath.

‘Stop! Wait!’

‘But it hurts!’ wailed Orli.

‘Just wait,’ soothed Sean, reaching up to run his fingers through Orlando’s wet, chill hair. ‘You’ll get used to it, we’ve gotta get you warm, okay?’

**

‘Better?’ he heard Sean ask after a while.

‘Mmm...’ Orli groaned, flexing his aching, thawing fingers and toes, before sinking lower in the water. It lapped warmly around his chin as he shifted lethargically. He sank even lower, feeling the water close over his head. It was a move that would be well-nigh impossible in a standard sized bath, but given this one was bigger than normal – almost the size of a spa bath – it was roomy enough (if not somewhat cosy) for the two of them.

Too pleasant laying here with Sean’s arms around him...

He pushed himself back up out of the water, puppy-dog shaking the water from his hair.

**

Sean shifted uncomfortably as his body sluggishly but surely responded to the movements of Orli against him. Skin on skin, and the purely accidental rubbing against his crotch was doing all sorts of peculiar things to his libido. He hoped that the confining jeans he still wore would keep everything under control – so to speak. He’d never been so glad to be wearing jeans in water before – not that it was a common occurrence. God only knew what Orlando’s reaction would be if he realised. Probably horrify the poor boy!

Even if it was a natural physiological response to someone rubbing against him like that.

Orli suddenly twisted around in the bath in a movement that sent the water surging dangerously close to the rim of the bath. He was sprawled over Sean’s body, pressing against him in a way that made the Sean bite back a groan, the water lapping around his shoulders. With Orli’s arms braced on the enamel bath on either side of his head, and his face buried against the curve of Sean’s neck, the older man found himself flushing – and it wasn’t at all related to the steam or heat of the water.

He could feel Orlando’s lips light against his skin, the warmth of his breath.

‘Come on, let’s get you out of this water and into some dry clothes,’ he said hastily, biting his lip as the way he wriggled away from Orlando wound the tension in his body up a notch. He shot out of the bath, water streaming down his body. He struggled out of water-logged denim, the whole time keeping his back to Orli, before shrugging into a dressing gown he belted tightly.

He heard Orli stand behind him, and half turned to hand him some dry, fluffy towels before mumbling that he’d get him something dry to wear. He well nigh scurried from the bathroom.

**

Out of the warmth of the water, Orli shivered, but the chill couldn’t wipe the smirk from his face. He wasn’t stupid enough not to realise why Sean had fled from the bathroom and was probably right this moment dressing himself with fervent haste. No doubt wishing he could run back into the bathroom and jump in a cold shower. He certainly wasn’t stupid – or cold-addled enough – not to know why the other man had refused to meet his gaze before he fled.

Orli swathed himself in the towels – some more of Sean’s seemingly inexhaustible supply – and stepped out of the bath, his teeth chattering again. The bath had warmed his extremities, but he still felt the cold inside. He needed something to warm him from the inside out, and he knew _exactly_ what would work. And that something was currently in the bedroom, probably just a shade shy of panicking. He choked back a quiet laugh.

Orli padded into the bedroom where he could hear Sean rummaging around in the wardrobe one-handed. Sean glanced up, a cigarette hanging from his fingers. ‘Go and sit in front of the fire in the living room,’ he suggested. ‘I’ll bring some clothes out for you.’

Okay, that was disappointing. It seemed all traces of the embarrassment from only moments before had passed in half a cigarette. He consoled himself with the fact that once it had happened once he should be able to encourage it again. Given the right situation... it shouldn’t be too hard.

‘Here, take this too – it’ll warm you up...’ Sean suddenly appeared in front of him, pressing a half-full bottle of whiskey against his palm. It didn’t occur to Orli to wonder why Sean had a bottle of whiskey in his bedroom.

**

Sean padded out into the living room, the clothes he had found for Orlando bundled under one arm. He’d pulled the plug in the bathroom on the way past and put all the wet clothing (including Orli’s soggy briefs) and towels aside to deal with later.

He smiled affectionately when he saw Orli. He was curled up on the rug right in front of the fireplace in a nest of towels, the bottle of whiskey clutched by the neck in one hand. He could see that Orli wasn’t asleep, the firelight catching his half-lidded eyes. Sean was surprised at how mature Orlando looked in this light. It was far too easy to mistake him for a slip of a boy, with his infectious grin and playful behaviour, a mistake Sean commonly made even though he knew better.

‘Here,’ he said quietly, sitting the bundle of clothing down on the rug. He knelt, lightly shaking Orli by the shoulder. ‘Hey?’

Orlando blinked and shook himself slightly, peering up. ‘Oh, hey...’ He wriggled around in his little nest of towels ‘til he was facing Sean, still grasping the bottle of whiskey, his thumb over the open top so as not to spill it. He lightly grasped Sean’s hand, tugging him down for what Sean naturally assumed what would be a hug.

The tang of whiskey was on Orlando’s breath as it ghosted over his cheek.

When Sean went to pull back, he realised Orlando wasn’t intending just a little hug.

**

Orlando leant into Sean, tightening his clasp around Sean’s shoulders with one arm, and after stashing the whiskey bottle behind him, sliding the other down to gently push on his hips, coaxing him down onto the rug next to him. He didn’t really expect Sean would go along with him in this, so wasn’t surprised when he resisted.

‘Orli-‘ Sean protested, but was quickly hushed by Orlando’s finger against his lips..

‘Please, Sean,’ he said softly, not really sure what he was making his soft plea for. ‘Just... I just want-‘

‘Shh.’ And for some reason Sean did. He settled down on the rug by Orli, letting the younger man snuggle in close.

Orli pressed against him from shoulder to thigh, rubbing his cheekbone gently against Sean’s jaw, and lightly kneading the back of his neck with one hand. The other man tensed when Orli pressed his open mouth against his neck. He flicked out his tongue to taste Sean’s skin, to see if he tasted as nice as he smelt. Better even. His breath caught as Sean stifled a faint moan. _Don’t say no to this, Sean, don’t say no..._

‘Orli – don’t – you shouldn’t be doing this...‘

**

His mouth said no, but his body said yes. They both knew it.

Sean made a low noise of frustration in the back of his throat. He should have suspected something was going on from the first time Orlando made some completely absurd comment that pinged his attention, or stared at him for a moment longer than he should have. Hell, maybe even from the moment Orli barrelled into him in the doorway, all taut and happy and flushed with life.

The lithe young body pressed against his just encouraged his body to rebel against his mind more. With his mind telling him _No, you_ really _don’t want to be doing this,_ and his body _aching_ for Orlando’s, Sean did the only thing he could in the situation. He pulled away.

Rolling flat on his back and covering his eyes with his arm he swore softly.

‘Sean?’ he heard Orli say his name hesitantly, before he felt the tentative touch of fingers twine through his hair. Long fingers, graceful hands that would feel so good on his body, his imagination added treacherously. _Who’s side are you on?_ Sean’s mind demanded of his imagination which was happily revelling in images of tangled limbed, sweaty skin, hands, fingers roaming to find and tease all the most sensitive spots on his body.

He dropped his arm to his side. Orli was propped up on one hand, looking down at him anxiously. His other hand, which had previously been combing through Sean’s hair, was hovering in the air above Sean’s head in a way that – at any other time – would have been comical.

Sean’s libido noticed that the towels had fallen back to pool around Orlando’s waist, that the firelight behind him gilded his bare skin and made his dark eyes pools of inky blackness.

‘Don’t say no...’ he could have sworn he heard Orlando whisper.

He swallowed, reached up to cup Orli’s cheek in his hand. ‘I – you – we _shouldn’t_...’ he trailed off, the words he knew he needed to say catching in his throat. With a fingertip he traced a line across Orli’s cheekbone, down his cheek to his jaw before curving his fingers around the back of the younger man’s neck, with little coaxing bringing Orli’s head down so their lips met.

 _I_ can’t _say no..._

**

It was in that moment of doubt, that fraction of a second between Sean speaking and the light touch of his finger when Orli finally realised that this was _really_ what he came for.

Not for flirting and games, not just for friendship, but for Sean.

Orlando froze when he first felt Sean’s hesitant caress, before exhaling softly and leaning into his touch. Reluctant, but oh so seductive. And when Sean pulled Orli’s lips to his, Orli relaxed into him willingly, gleefully.

The kiss tasted like the whiskey Orlando had been drinking, like the cigarette Sean had indulged in, tasted of more than that, tasted of _Sean_ , of lust and heat and masculinity. Nothing Orli had ever tasted before. Intoxicating, more than anything he had experienced, more than the whiskey that warmed his veins.

His body responded eagerly. _Down boy!_ he giddily told himself, even as Sean pushed him back onto the nest of towels. He hadn’t suspected Sean would take the initiative, the upper hand. He thought that he’d be the one to take Sean in hand – so to speak. Instead he found himself sprawled on his back with the weight of the other man pinning him.

Not that he was complaining, of course.

He burrowed his hands beneath Sean’s jumper, beneath his shirt, bunching the material out of the way of his questing hands. Arching up against him as he felt Sean’s own hands skitter lightly down his side. Moaning softly until Sean broke the kiss and sat up over him, braced by his hands on either side of Orli’s head, and straddling his hips.

Orlando reached up to pull Sean back down to him, planning to kiss him senseless, but he jerked his head back from Orli’s grip, shifting to pick up the bottle of whiskey and drink from it.

A few drops ran down Sean’s chin, dripping onto Orlando’s bare chest. Orli shivered slightly, both from the drops of whiskey and the firelight glittering in Sean’s eyes as his gaze fell upon those wet circles on his skin.

**

Sean bent forward, lapping up the spilt alcohol off Orlando’s skin. He tasted clean and sharp and Sean knew his behaviour right from the moment Orli had pulled him down on the rug was completely unexpected. Kept him off-balance.

Which was just what Sean wanted. Someone had been feeling a little too clever from the time they had arrived the previous day, and if Sean didn’t know Orlando as he did, he might have even suspected him of falling into the pond deliberately. But he did know Orli, and even though he was somewhat reckless – bungee jumping being a classic example – he knew he wasn’t so foolish as to plunge into ice water in the middle of winter. It just didn’t make sense.

He nuzzled at Orli’s nipple, lightly biting the hardened nub, smirking as he felt the rumble of pleasure in the chest below his lips. Orlando wasn’t the first bloke Sean had played with. Although, he had to admit, he was the first that Sean actually felt genuine hardcore attraction to.

He came to the conclusion there was a definite difference between stone-cold sober and drunken lust. Sean now found himself exploring the differences intimately.

**

Orli tugged at Sean’s clothes, making a wordless noise of vexation. The slick swipe of Sean’s tongue across his skin, then the way he investigated Orli’s chest with his lips, charting the ridges of his ribs, his heartbeat, the curve of his collarbone and the sensitive spot of skin just below it had Orlando so hard for him. The way he was sitting, there was no way Sean wouldn’t be able to feel Orli’s hardness pressing against him.

No doubt already damp against the towel that still covered his hips.

Sean’s laughter was almost a growl as he tugged Orlando’s hand away from his clothes, pinning it against the rug. A log fell on the fire, the sudden noise startling Orli, but Sean ignored it. There was something even more arousing by the way Sean easily dominated him. He wasn’t a sub, but something about being never before being the weaker sent a thrill through him.

Thought went to mush once he felt Sean’s mouth on his again.

**

Sean liked kissing Orlando. Demanding and taking as he would, tasting, stroking Orli’s tongue, tracing his lips, making love to his mouth whilst his hand wandered south. Orlando was so pleasantly responsive, Sean could _taste_ his exhilarating youth. Twisting beneath him, desperate to touch and feel more, needy in a way Sean hadn’t had in a lover for quite some time.

Hell, Sean hadn’t _had_ a lover for quite some time...

He slid his fingers beneath the edge of the towel. Orlando’s skin was like silk beneath his fingers, smooth and seemingly impossibly soft. His eyebrows quirked with surprise when he felt Orli’s fingers tight around his wrist. For a moment he thought Orli was going to pull his hand away, but instead he urged Sean’s hand to touch him, his own fingers sliding down to curve over Sean’s.

Sean chuckled softly. Desperate and needy didn’t even come close to covering it.

**

Aching, wanting to climb inside his body, shuddering, demanding, sundered at the stroke of his hand, the heat of his skin under clutching, searching hands, the light flick of his tongue over Orli’s lips, parting them, tasting, needing, oh god _needing_...

**

To say Sean got off on having Orli beneath him was an understatement.

The way he was so responsive and eager, pushing against Sean’s hand, clinging to him so tightly his nails scored Sean’s skin... Sean’s ego _knew_ he was a good lover, but it was always nice to have proof like this beneath him, wanting _him_. Not Sean Bean the actor, not any of his characters or roles, but _him_.

He sucked on the skin of Orli’s neck, licked his jaw, nipped at his ear. Felt Orli twist beneath him, heard him cry out, felt the hot wetness of his release over his fingers. Trembling and shuddering and panting. Sean placed a kiss against the corner of Orli’s mouth, just holding him as he came, before wiping his hand clean on one of the towels.

Orli blinked up at him, lazily, looking like a sated cat for all his chest still heaved as he regained his breath. He brought Sean’s hand up to his mouth and nuzzled at it, the rasp of his teeth and counterpoint softness of his lips sending a shiver down Sean’s spine. It didn’t bother him that he hadn’t come. From the look in Orlando’s eyes that was only going to be a matter of time.

He propped himself up on his elbow and grinned down at Orli. ‘There are easier ways, you know, to get me into the sack without jumping into a frozen pond,’ he teased, swiping up the bottle of whiskey and taking a swig.

Orli gave a feline stretch. ‘Yeah,’ he said, hooking his finger over the waistband of Sean’s jeans, rubbing the side of his thumb against the hardness he could feel on the other side of the zipper, ‘but what else could have such guaranteed results?’


End file.
